


The Pharah Trap

by DaisyIfYouHave



Series: Overgays universe [2]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, dumb gay birds, help these children, my beloved stage whisper trope I get to use so infrequently
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-16
Updated: 2017-06-16
Packaged: 2018-11-14 21:02:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11216220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DaisyIfYouHave/pseuds/DaisyIfYouHave
Summary: Someone help these nerds.  Just a short, goofy, fun thing.





	The Pharah Trap

Mercy stacked the papers on the edge of her desk, and put the thick leatherbound book back on the shelf, straightening her wool fishtail skirt. It wouldn’t be a bad night, just another one spent alone, settled under an afghan on the couch, eating out of a styrofoam container and watching Netflix.

She thought about calling Tracer—she longed to see her and Winston, but it would be too much, too embarrassing after practically throwing herself at Fareeha, only to be gently refused. She was very chivalrous, to have let Mercy down so easily, and that did not help her let go.

She sat down at the computer and googled ‘Fareeha Amari Egypt.’ Mercy was not a stupid woman—it had dawned on her, as she walked back to her office, why Fareeha looked so familiar, she was Ana’s daughter, she had to be, and yet it occurred to her that she had no idea what Fareeha had ever done with her life, having only seen her in passing during Overwatch. Ana hated having her anywhere near the work, and not long after Mercy joined up, she had run away to join the army.

The last time Mercy had seen her was at Ana’s funeral, years ago. She had been handsome then, of course, but the years had added a strength and shine to her. Also, the tattoo and shoulders carved of elegant stone were new.

Captain Amari. She had done everything she had told Ana she would do, everything that Ana had denied her.

She looked very good in uniform.

There was a harsh whisper of voices outside her door, and her brow knit slightly. “Hello?”

The whisper came in Lena’s unmistakable accent, the one Jack used to call, ‘English, reportedly.’ “ _Go! Fly!”_

And Fareeha Amari stumbled through the door. “Dr. Zeigler.” She nodded. “Angela. I did not mean to frighten you.” She stood up straight, as if reporting for duty.

“You didn’t.” She turned her computer monitor slightly further away from her.

“I.”

“Yes?”Mercy leaned forward hopefully.

The whisper came from the hallway like a very determined snake. _“I was just thinking, why should you go to the museum alone? Lena and Winston are busy, and I can’t personally think of a better way to spend an evening than amidst all kinds of legendary beauty, and I’m sure the art won’t be 'alf bad, neither.”_

Pharah looked straight at Mercy, who waited , her lips half parted, waiting to say yes. “I would go to the Museum with you. Tonight.”

_“That’s not precisely what I said, love.”_

Mercy felt suddenly even more embarrassed. Pitied. Tracer had a way of talking people into things—it was easy to forget how small she was when her personality nearly suffocated an entire room—and poor Fareeha had obviously been taken by her.

“No, no,” she shook her head and nervously picked up a pen. “You don’t have to, that’s all right.”

Pharah stepped forward. “I want to!” Mercy was delighted to see the honesty in her eyes, and the lack of whisper before she said it. “If you want to.”

“I want to.” She smiled. “Very much.”

The hallway spoke again. “ _There’s a romantic little café across the way and I thought I might treat you to dinner, a nice cocktail, we’ll have some laughs,  I’ll rent a cabriolet and come pick you up and we’ll drive round town.”_

“Would you like to eat?” Pharah interpreted.

 _“Fareeha, I was told you spoke English when we met_.”

Mercy could not stop herself from laughing. “Lena, its fine. Yes, I would like to eat.”

Tracer walked in the office, shaking her head. “Swear to God, if I looked like you I’d have three girls a week and two on Sundays, but no, Dad was 168 centimeters and not quite 11 stone soaking wet, and Mum didn’t help me any neither. What a perfect waste, all I have to work with is my charm.”

Pharah looked at her and scowled.  “I see why dating is difficult for you.”

“Oh, cute now, aren’t we?” She looked over at Mercy. “Ang, Fareeha would like to take you out to dinner and the museum. She’ll pick you up at your apartment. I,” she clapped Pharah on the shoulder and turned around, “Am going to eat an entire bucket of eggrolls with Win, and try not to imagine you two attempting to communicate.”

Mercy just smiled at Pharah, and was delighted to see her smile back.


End file.
